


Ghivashel

by FountainsOfSilver



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, lotr - Fandom
Genre: Affection, Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dwarf, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Endearments, F/M, Fingering, Fluff, Fondling, Foreplay, Kissing, Love, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pillow Talk, Romance, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Sex, Shyness, Smut, Snuggling, Sweet Talk, Vaginal Fingering, Wooing, beard pulling, one-sided pleasure, whisper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 10:23:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FountainsOfSilver/pseuds/FountainsOfSilver
Summary: Gimli carries all of his treasure in one bag.XOXO,FountainsofSilver





	Ghivashel

Ghivashel

I curled up on the floor beside the bed. It was nothing for me to do so. Being what I am, I’m used to these kinds of circumstances. Too small to be accepted by the elves and too tall to be a hobbit I don’t know where I fit in. I found it was better to be away from both groups. Certainly the humans are terrible, but I’d rather be treated horribly by them than ever treated as a child in my mother’s world or teased for my little, hairless feet in my father’s. It’s easier when you are completely different because you have no expectations. The humans are dreadful though. 

I often fantasize about running away and I cannot help but think of it now. These adventurers have been here two days now and though I know they will be leaving soon, I cannot help but dream of running away with them. The human isn’t so bad as other humans. He takes pity on my difference I suppose. The elf is not patronizing, but nor does he acknowledge any kinship. The dwarf, I have never seen a dwarf before! He has been kind. Perhaps it is because I am the only one shorter than him. He stands very tall and seems to tower over me. Humans are always quick to point out differences and to try to make you feel bad about them. They have teased me relentlessly in front of these three strangers.

Tonight I was forced to carry more mugs than I could bear again. They find it all funny, except the three adventurers. When it is only me and the humans I can take their teasing. With these three watching I was embarrassed for some reason. I’ve put up with their humiliating me before, but tonight it was too much. My face was hot and I wanted to run away and cry. It is always funny when I shake my head to not give me so many. I would be fast and come back right away, but the master laughs and says the patrons want all their drinks at the same time. They all laugh at me struggling. They all laugh when I drop them. The master always stops laughing then and it makes me wonder why he continues to give me more than I can carry if it makes him so angry when I drop them. Tonight when I dropped the tray the elf caught it. It was like nothing to him and I struggle every day. No wonder elves look at me like I am less. The human held the dwarf back from fighting the one who tripped me. Why can’t I be as graceful as my kin? Why am I weak and so small? 

I had to sneak into one of their rooms to sleep on their floor. The master will not yell at me in here. I am small. Certainly they won’t notice me. I am half under the bed and I can scoot out of sight if whichever one who has this room wakes. The walls are thin and I can hear snores coming from other rooms. This is somehow comforting to me and I fall into a dreamless sleep. 

All at once I feel large hands scooping me up into thickly muscled arms. I have never felt such large hands. I feel myself cradled in warmth. I keep my eyes closed just in case it is the master to pull me out of their room. Better to pretend to be asleep.

“Aye, sleep little lass.” The warm, low voice croons in barely a whisper. 

I feel him breathing against my neck and keep pretending. He nuzzles against my neck to push my hair back from my ear so he can whisper to me more without anyone else overhearing. 

“Whose room did you think you were sneakin’ into?” He asks. His voice is a little sad. The inn was full of men tonight. He must have thought I sought to sneak into some man’s room to gaze at some handsome man as they slept, perhaps he speaks of the elf who is closest to me in relation. He must think I find that kind beautiful, and they are of course, but they are not the kind of beautiful you fall in love with. They seem so cold to me and right now I feel warm beneath him in his arms. Ah, I only slept here to be safe. Though I do not feel unsafe now. I feel more safe than I ever have in my life. I know with complete certainty that a single word would stop him. I say nothing. 

One of his large hands is still about my waist. If the other one were there too, the large fingers would wrap all the way around. What kind of man has such large hands, I think?

He nuzzles against my hair again, breathing in the scent. “It’s no matter. Sweet, wee lass, keep your eyes closed and dream of that lad now.” His kisses are gentle against my neck and face. My nightgown’s strap is easily slipped from my shoulder by one rough thumbstroke and he kisses there too. For a long time he gives me feathersoft kisses and just looks at me. The hand that is around my waist ever so reluctantly leaves. I can tell this from the sigh that slips from deep within him. 

He kisses me slowly and gently as if to not wake me. I do not dare open my eyes for he told me not to and I cannot imagine ever wanting this feeling of enveloping warmth and affection to leave. I’m afraid that if I open my eyes it will have been a dream or perhaps he will be afraid to continue saying the sweetest words I have ever heard in my life. For he will kiss my bare skin and then murmur something deep and low as if to himself, but it is all about me. 

“My little gemstone…” he whispers, his hand upon my thigh. “Flawlessly cut…” His hand slides up, pulling my nightslip along with it. “You should be clothed in silk and draped in jewels. What are you?” He whispers with amazement. ”You are a wee little thing, like a hobbit, but not so small as that are you? Not as big as a dwarven lass, but lovely like a bonnie wee elf. Ah, my ghivashel…” 

One of those rough fingers brushes between my legs and I start at the sensation and gasp. My eyes open only briefly from the shock. In that instant I see his shadow over me. The room is dark, but there is a faint light coming from the moonlight outside. I realize how much more impossibly large he is compared to me. His shoulders are broader than most men’s. I’ve always been smaller than everyone, but I’ve never felt this small in my life. I’ve always managed on my own, I’ve never felt I needed someone larger than me to protect me, not like I feel need now.

“Shhh…” His hand instantly stills as if he fears he’s disturbed me somehow. He doesn’t see me looking at him as he has looked down to see what he has done to disturb me and his eyes linger on my body. “Sleep, my perfect jewel. Shhh… Dream of that lad that you’ve given your precious heart to…” And somehow now he knows that the feel of his finger between my thighs could be a delight. And delight me he does with gentle caresses. And it makes me sad to think he could only feel right to touch me this way when I am asleep and dreaming of another. 

“It was a surprise to me to find that lasses do not find me at all attractive outside of my homeland.” He quietly confesses. “I was always shy to flirt with dwarven women. They are so bold and not at all afraid. When I left I was young and they flustered me with their brazen talk. I thought flirting with elves and humans much easier.” He laughs softly and continues. “I never expected somethin’ to come of it. It was all practice for when I returned home and in fun. Oh aye, I’m a right good flirt, but I can tell they have no interest in me.” He kisses my temple and his lips linger there. “I would have done the same with you, but for your eyes.” He holds me against him, his face slowly rubbing against my hair. “Your eyes looked at me with such curiosity, like you had never seen the likes of me before, but not like the other lasses, like I amuse them somehow. Your eyes put an end to my foolishness, but not my folly. Oh, for I am reckless with you now.”

His arms encircle me now and I didn’t think I could feel smaller, but I do. He feels so big to me that I do not comprehend his insecurity. “Oh, I know you look at all in the same manner and that I’m not different from others but all I want is to have those eyes look at me again. But sleep, for those eyes would end me now and I wouldn’t have the courage to go on and I need to. I need to give my love or I won’t last another day. Sleep, and let me love you.”

I long to throw my arms around his neck and tell him he is as deserving of love as any and more than most. But I can say nothing. All I do is gasp at his velvet touch. No part of my body will respond to my call. His fingers are large. He strokes me with one and then another, each taking their turn as if each one has a separate memory and each must touch and explore on their own. He takes his time with it, as if he has all the time in the world and would rather do nothing but this. Or perhaps it is more like he has no time and he would seek to make these few hours last. My back arches and I grasp the sheets. Never have I felt such a feeling. I want to tell him that I will love him. Should no one else want to love him or should the entire world love him, right now I love him the best. A slow, gasping, “Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!” is all that will come out and it startles him. 

Again he is still. Has he awakened me? He must fear. As if any could sleep through such loving touches. He must know I am awake. If not it is only himself he has tried to fool. He tells me I must practice being quiet if he is to continue. It is the others he is afraid of waking. My eyes stay closed and I bite my lip. Certainly he can see I am more than willing to comply as I pant in anticipation. His great hand cups the side of my face and he brushes the hair back from my face and kisses my cheeks, forehead, neck, and shoulders. I can only guess that he doesn’t kiss my lips because I am struggling to breathe after this lengthy exercise in affection. I wet my lips and force myself to slow my breathing, to get it under control so he may finally kiss me. 

Instead I feel his hand slip deftly into my panties and his fingers touch me again with nothing between us now. I cannot help myself and I let out a keening cry of such overwhelming happiness and need. Again he stops. It is a torment. It is the most pleasant thing I’ve experienced in my entire life and yet there is something about it that makes me want more. I do not know what more he can give me, except for never stopping. 

I tug at his beard and he lets out a growl that is as thrilling as his touch. My body arcs and I gasp again. 

“Not the beard, lass.” That growl fades into a sweet purr as his hand encircles my wrist now. “You don’t know what that does to a lad.”

Despite the growl, there is something in his tone that makes me think I wanted to know and I tugged harder, pulling his lips to mine. His fingers are still wrapped about my wrist, but they do not resist, only tighten. Again that growl, but it was just a vibration against my lips and I hummed in victory over having won his kiss at last. His mustache and beard tickle me, but not in a way that would make me laugh. I run my fingers through his beard and he too gasps in delight. 

“You mustn’t.” He warns, an edge of desperation in his voice. His hand that could easily stop me caresses my arm while the fingers of his other hand play in my hair, twining it around his fingers like rings.

He must have decided then that my hands were better occupied grasping the sheets because his dry, callused fingers slip down across where I am slick and wet. His kiss muffles my cries within his groan of arousal. His body tenses and stretches as if he is a wild animal holding itself back from pouncing on its prey and his muscles flex and harden beneath my touch. I cannot help but keep my arms around him now for he is kissing me and stroking me and I need to touch him. Back and forth his fingers slowly trace my flesh and drench me in my own wetness. 

He stops kissing me to pant and catch his breath, but I cannot stop. The way he is touching me threatens to make me cry out louder than before and I know he will stop for good if I make too much noise. I nuzzle desperately under his hair and beard and bite into that muscle in his shoulder. “Nnnnh!” He bites off his own moan to keep from alerting others. Part of me wonders if I hurt him, part of me doesn’t care, and another part of me hears the animal part in him whose groan was meant to say, “Don’t stop.” 

Still his fingers moved in a slow,lazy way that have been driving me mad. All night he kept me at what felt like the edge of a cliff. All night he apologized. It was as if he knew the next thing to do and withheld it from me. He wanted to he kept saying, but he knew better. I did not. All I knew was that I wanted what I wanted, but I lay there my body wracked with pleasure and did not know what it was I had to do to make him do it. So I bit him and sucked his skin and kissed him as if I were punishing him for withholding, begging him to give me who knows what, and consoling him for not being able to do what the yearning in his apologies told me he wanted.

After what must have been hours of this loving, he regretfully pulled his fingers away. But now he pulled me up against him, kissing the back of my neck and calling me his treasure in the common tongue and some wickedly beautiful, guttural language that I do not know. All I could do was lay there trying to catch my breath and trying to hold onto this moment. “I’ve heard tell of it. This must be what gold sickness feels like, my lovely treasure. Oh, but you’re worth all the gold in Erebor and every mountain on this world. If someone tried to take you from me, I would fight them to the death be they friend or enemy.” His voice sounded choked and emotional when he spoke in that other language I can only imagine to be Khuzdul. What did he feel he could only say in words I could not understand? The human words became less and he only spoke in that language with such yearning and devotion. I could feel his body tremble to say these things I did not understand. “Ghivashel…” I recall that word from before, but the others were so foreign and I could not grasp the words of his foreign tongue. My mind became dull and weary as he stroked my hair. I could listen to him speak thusly forever. I prayed that this dream never ended. 

The next morning I felt a joy surge through me as I still felt those great arms around me and his forehead resting against the back of my neck. His body was curved around mine protectively and possessively. 

“Your snoring will wake the entire inn.” The light and cheery voice frightened me and my lover who had not started at the voice as I did, now stirred when my body tensed. 

“Lad, why d’you have to be so pipin’ cheerful every morning?” The gruff voice behind me asked as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

The elf turned and saw me then. “Ah, Gimli! What is this?”

Gimli rubbed his face and beard in an effort to get his thoughts together quickly to explain as he drug himself to the edge of the bed. 

“Perhaps you are the one who should be so piping cheerful this morning.” The elf said in a merry, teasing way.

I could tell my dwarven lover was flustered at being found, but he also seemed to want to make it obvious we were both still quite fully dressed. “The lass, she was sleepin’ on the floor and the evenin’ was cool. I couldn’t very well leave her there.” He had jumped up and was moving stuff around in his pack.

“Of course not.” The elf did not try to hide his grin. 

“Don’t be thinkin’ thataway!” Gimli ordered.

“In what way would that be?” The elf asked playfully.

“The way you’re thinkin’! It wasn’t anything dishonorable.” And I heard the hint of uncertainty as the words trailed off.

The elf just nodded. 

“Do ye have rope amongst your things?” Gimli asked, pulling things out of his bag and inspecting them with a frown.

“Elvish rope.”

“Mmhm. Then I don’t need this.” He tossed his large coil of rope in a pile with other things he deemed unimportant. The bag was near to empty when he was done. He only put back the little things in the side pouches. He turned to look at me finally then, as if he’d been ashamed or afraid to before this moment. I could only smile at him and the worry on his face disappeared. He asked something questioning again in the Khuzdul that I did not understand and motioned for me to come to him, but I was already halfway there. I would do anything he asked. He wrapped a thin blanket around me very tightly and carefully as if he were bundling a child or wrapping some breakable thing. He looked at me with a question in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” The elf seemed surprised that I stepped into the bag without so much as a word. 

“We should only take what we can carry easily.” Gimli said as I tucked myself down in the bag. 

“You can’t take a Hobbit!” 

“We started this journey with four and now we have none. I’ll be takin’ this one back to Erebor with me. Furthermore, she isn’t a Hobbit, at least, not all Hobbit. Don’t you recognize your own kin?”

“Galadriel’s gift not enough for you, Lock-bearer?” The elf teased, apparently finally recognizing our relation. “You have to make treasure of an actual elf too?

“Aye, she’s the treasure I choose. Oh lad, look at her! She’s an elf sized for a dwarf. It’s like she was made just for me.” Gimli’s eyes sparkled brightly as he looked at me and I couldn’t help but to jump up and hug him. This seemed to greatly improve his mood for there was a great beaming smile on his face as he re-bundled me.

“But Gimli, certainly you see that you can’t just stuff her in a bag and carry her with you?”

“I didn’t do the stuffin’. She put herself in there right neatly as you saw yourself. I can carry her easily enough. She’s a little slip of a thing. Aragorn said we can take whatever treasure we can carry.”

“He’s not going to like this.” The elf said with a smile seeing me truly tucked away now. I felt myself hoisted up so easily onto his back I felt as if I were flying a moment. The bag was cozy and my dwarven lover put out enough heat for the coldest of winters. 

“Speakin’ of that…” Gimli said once I was securely in place and hidden, “I’d rather you not speak of that.” And with his rumbling laugh, I felt him walk back out onto the path of adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr as well to get updates (I will tag you for all or specific characters also if you like) and you will have a vote on which character's story I update next.  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fountainsofsilver


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